


Feeding Kili

by justcallmecappy



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Complete, Esgaroth, F/M, Gen, Humour, Lake-town, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 06:56:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4338398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justcallmecappy/pseuds/justcallmecappy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With their house in ruins from an Orc attack, their father in prison, and two siblings (not to mention several Dwarves) to care for, Sigrid has other things to worry about than making sure a sick Dwarf eats his gruel. Luckily, Tauriel is there to help her cope with the situation. [KilixTauriel, told through the eyes of Sigrid]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeding Kili

It was late morning in Laketown, and the household of Bard the Bargeman was in shambles.

Sigrid, his eldest daughter, was in distress – it was barely a day ago that their house had been suddenly attacked by Orcs, and while she was grateful that her family escaped with their lives, there were still a few things she was extremely upset about.

Firstly, their father was in _prison_. She had no idea how or why it happened, but according to Bain, the last time he saw Da they were being pursued by the Town’s Watch – and apparently he had been _arrested_.

Secondly, winter was approaching, their house was in dire need of repair, and she had two siblings to care for … plus several stray Dwarves, who had brought all these events to their doorstep as if bad luck followed them wherever they went (perhaps it did).

And last but not least … she had a distressingly sick, fussy Dwarf in front of her right now, apparently recovering from some mortal illness, and was staunchly refusing to eat his gruel.

“I’m just not hungry,” Kíli sulked, turning his head away from the spoonful of fish-gruel Sigrid was trying to feed him.

“Please, you need your strength,” she said, sighing and suppressing the urge to just pour the bowl onto his stubborn head.

Tilda joined in with plaintive, begging eyes and said, “Please, Mister Dwarf? It would make us so happy.”

But Kíli shuddered; He looked at the gruel like it would kill him. “Just the thought of eating makes me sick,” he muttered pitifully, and his face turned a shade paler.

His brother Fíli nudged him in the shoulder and said, “Come on, Kíli, just a bite. You won’t get better if you don’t eat. How are we going to join Uncle and the rest at Erebor if you’re determined to stay sick?”

The other two Dwarves and even Bain tried their best to convince Kíli to eat, but he merely shook his head weakly, and lay down to face the wall.

 _Oh, if only Tauriel was here_ , Sigrid thought, already at her wits’ end.

Having Tauriel around helped them cope with their situation significantly. Before that night, Sigrid had never seen the Elves of the Woodland Realm up close before – but the Elf-maiden really lived up to the old tales of Elven wisdom and beauty. She had come swooping in to save them, her daggers flashing like lightning as she struck the Orcs down. Even with Da gone, having Tauriel around made them feel safe and cared for.

But she was, at that moment, surveying the area around their house and gathering supplies.

Kíli was asleep when she left the house earlier that morning, and her explicit instructions were: “When he wakes, make sure he eats something. He’s spent a lot of his strength and is very weak,” before she disappeared into the twisting alleyways of Laketown.

Sigrid was prepared to instruct Bain and Fíli to hold Kíli down so she could force-feed him – when Tauriel reappeared, as if summoned.

“Has he eaten?” she asked, placing her bow and a basketful of food on the table.

Her arrival seemed to trigger pent-up tension in the house, because all at once, everyone came up to her to report their grievances.

“We tried to get him to eat, but he just _refuses_ ,” Bain started to explain, while at the same time Oin began, “Stubborn as his Uncle, that one! Hard-headed and cannot be reasoned with! Never in my life have I dealt with such a difficult patient –“

“No, he hasn’t eaten anything,” Fíli said, his brow knotted in worry, “We managed to get some water and a bit of herb tea in him since he woke, but that’s about it –“

Bofur and Tilda, meanwhile, were rummaging through the cupboards – Bofur called over the din, “Do you think he would prefer biscuits instead? Or walnuts? Or some of this very old cheese –“ he nibbled a corner of the cheese, “- oh no, Tilda, put that away, it’s definitely gone bad –“

Sigrid observed as Kíli stared desolately out the window, ignoring them all, the picture of utter misery.

Tauriel strode across the room. She took the bowl of gruel from Sigrid’s hands. “Kíli,” she called gently.

He glanced away from the window, but still refused to meet her eyes. Once he had recovered from his fever, he’d lapsed into a childish stubbornness, as he dealt with the frustration of recuperating from his illness. He didn’t seem to understand that being sick made him weaker, and refused all sorts of help even though he was in severe need of it.

“You must eat,” Tauriel said, sitting by a low stool next to his bed.

Kíli drew his knees to his chin and continued to sulk. “I just don’t have the appetite right now, that’s all.”

“You see, hard-headed and foolish as an ox,” Oin began, and launched into a tirade of complaints. Out of all the Dwarves, he and his brother Gloin had the worst tempers, and when they started complaining the best thing to do was wait until they ran out of things to complain about.

“I think all he needs is a bit of song!” Bofur volunteered. “Cheer him up a bit, eh?” then he immediately launched into a jolly tune about hogs and pollywogs and _tra-lalala, ho-ho!_ and Tilda, delighted, joined in by clapping her hands.

Fíli had resigned himself to stand by the window and stare mournfully at the silhouette of the Lonely Mountain in the distance; while Bain shook his head, took a fishing rod and bait bucket by the door, and with a casual, “I’m going to catch us our lunch,” he was out of the house with barely a good-bye.

Sigrid narrowed her eyes disapprovingly, thinking it unfair her brother found such a convenient escape; but she, too was severely tempted to throw up her hands in defeat and join Fíli by the window.

Tauriel, meanwhile, never took her eyes off Kíli. Her lovely forehead was creased in deep concern; her lips parted as if she was on the verge of saying something. Several times, she moved as if to reach a hand out to Kíli, but every time she hesitated.

Finally Kíli risked a glance up at her.

As soon as their eyes met, the hard, stubborn look on his face crumbled – he made a sort of whimpering sound, like a wounded deer – and his face fell into such a pained, mournful expression, his lip quivering if he were about to cry.

Tauriel’s eyes widened. Her body went rigid, looking like she’d been struck by an arrow.

And then it happened – in one swift, graceful movement, Tauriel leaned forward, and, tucking a stray ribbon of hair behind her ear, she kissed Kíli delicately on his pale forehead.

Everyone in the room immediately fell silent.

It wasn’t a long kiss – but when it was over, the way that Kíli and Tauriel looked at each other made everyone suddenly want to look away, embarrassed. Sigrid felt a hot blush rise to her cheeks, and she stared at the floor, finding the patterns in the wood-grain _so_ very interesting.

“Kíli,” Tauriel said, so softly that they could barely hear it. “Please. Do this for me?”

The result was instantaneous: Kíli took the bowl from her hands, and began to spoon in mouthfuls of gruel with great gusto. There were a few moments where he looked like he would gag, but he ate on bravely until the whole bowl was finished.

Tauriel couldn’t stop smiling as she carried the empty bowl away.

“Really,” Oin muttered to himself, “Elves have the most interesting methods of medical treatment.” And Sigrid felt like she had learnt something very important that morning.

* * *

At dinnertime, Sigrid brought Kíli a steaming bowl of soup, made with herbs and porridge and soft pieces of fish from Bain’s catch that afternoon. “Here,” she said, just a bit smugly. “You should be able to manage this yourself, I think?”

But Kíli was throwing tentative glances from the bowl, and then to Tauriel, who sat across the room. When she noticed his glances, she looked up, curious.

Kíli looked away and cleared his throat, the tips of his ears slowly turning the faintest shade of pink. There was a moment’s hesitation before he announced, quite nervously, “I’m, uh – I’m not … I’m not … hungry.”

And then there was a sound – it was like the delicate chiming of bells, soft as summer rain, beautiful and melodious –

… and it was a split second later before they all realized that Tauriel was laughing.

 


End file.
